


Storybook Love

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for nialla42 on Tumblr, who requested a happy ending for Sybil and Tom. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storybook Love

_"Don’t you know that storybook loves always have a happy ending?"_ -"Once Upon a Time", Mark Knopfler

Sybil was never interested in princes.

Her sisters were. As children, Mary and Edith would play “Sleeping Beauty” games for hours on end, arguing over who would lie on the steps of the folly, clutching a bouquet of pretty flowers uprooted from the garden, and wait to be found. Mary usually won. Edith was either a handmaiden or, once Patrick and the other boys had decried the game as “soppy” and gone off to catch frogs, the prince himself. Sybil preferred to be a fairy, flitting about sprinkling dandelion seeds, or a puppy rolling in the grass, or lion stalking through the savanna. It all seemed so much more interesting than lying about waiting for a man.

Now, nearly thirty years on, Sybil saw the old days reflected in her own daughters. The eldest, Violet, was the family ringleader, barking orders at her sisters and getting so terribly hurt when they finally mutinied and left her on her own. Brigid, two years younger, seemed destined to be forever overshadowed, and had cultivated a streak of cunning to make up for it. And Gwen, the youngest, named for a long ago friend Sybil had loved and Tom had admired, was always a bit apart, doing just as she pleased and paying very little attention to the others. You will be the happiest, my girl, Sybil thought sometimes, although it felt like a disloyal sentiment for a mother to have. She couldn’t help it. You will always have exactly what you want. Like I do.

“God almighty, Sybil, if your father tries to talk to me about cricket again, I’m swear I’m going to turn to drink.”

“Darling.” 

Tom came up behind her, putting his arms around her waist as she stood watching the children through the front window. “You know he loves you dearly.” It had taken a long time to get there, but Tom was like a son to Robert Grantham. Matthew’s death, and Tom’s decision, made without any pressure whatsoever from Sybil, to move into Downton Place and act as estate manager had played a large part in Robert’s change of heart.

“I’d put up with a little less love if it meant less talk of bloody cricket.” But there was laughter in Tom’s voice, and he kissed Sybil’s cheek.

“Be kind,” Sybil told him.“Besides, you know they’re suffering. They’re down to a cook, a butler and a handful of housemaids. Papa had to dress himself the other night. Mama told me he came down to dinner with half his buttons unfastened.” It was a slight exaggeration. He’d only had his cuffs undone, apparently because he couldn’t conceive of how to fasten them. But the story made Tom laugh, which had been its purpose, and Sybil leaned back into his arms. He held her tight, the way she liked, and said, “Times are changing, my love, just as we knew they would.”

They were. Mr. Bates was the butler now, while Anna had her hands full at home with two lively sons. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes had married and bought a little bed and breakfast just outside Whitby. Mr. Barrow had gone to London with one of the footmen, which was apparently a scandalous situation although Sybil couldn’t see why. Even Mrs. Patmore—lovely, wonderful Mrs. Patmore who had taught Sybil to cook when Sybil herself despaired of ever learning—had retired, although she was still in Downton, living in her little cottage in the village. Sybil had her over for tea once a month, and she always brought the most lovely cakes. Daisy was the cook at Downton Abbey now. Mrs. Mason, she was properly called, although Sybil could never see her as anything other than Daisy.

“It makes me wonder,” Tom continued, “what the world will be like when our girls are all grown up.”

Sybil looked at her strong, beautiful daughters. Violet had pushed Brigid into the mud, and Brigid was retaliating by pulling at Violet’s plaits. Sybil rapped on the window, frowning. The children glanced up and stopped, although they continued to glower at one another, their little faces scowling murderously. Gwen had picked a daffodil and was flinging the petals hither and yon. “A world where they can be whatever they want and marry whomever they love,” Sybil said. At least, she hoped that for them.

“A world like ours, then.” It hadn’t been free of trouble. No marriage was. They’d had their ups and downs, like any couple, but through it all, they’d had love.

Sybil turned to face her husband. Tom had gained weight and streaks of grey hair grew at his temples. She wasn’t the pretty young thing she had once been, either. The years had brought lines to her forehead and put crow’s feet around her eyes, and the other day, she’d glanced in a mirror and wondered, for a moment, what her mother was doing in the house. But they were as much in love as ever. As much as they’d been when they were a chauffeur and a nurse during the war, as much as when they ran off to get married. As much as when they’d lived over a garage in Liverpool with Tom’s brother and a perpetually shrieking new-born Violet, and as much as when Tom told her he wanted to come back to Downton to help her family in its hour of need.

“Yes.” Sybil smiled. “I suppose we were just lucky enough to get it a little sooner than everybody else.” She kissed Tom,then pulled him close and rested her head against his chest, so she could hear his heart beat within.

 _My prince,_ she thought, as outside, Violet screamed and Brigid yelled, “Mummy!” _But you didn’t find me. We found one another, and I’m ever so happy we did._


End file.
